Trying not to Love you
by xxjonasangelxx
Summary: Songfic - Sherlock comes home stabbed in the shoulder and bleed out, heart barely beating and barely conscious. After doing all he can John contemplates just what Sherlock means to him and what his life would be like without the detective.


**Hey guys, long time no writing. How was your holidays and starting school?**

**I want to thank all of those people have supported my stories and that I WILL get back to Adira Pendragon amoungt other things I've just been super busy with personal and accademic issues. Mostly sorted now though.**

**This was written as a venting point for me about the last Epi of the BBC's Sherlock, heart breaking. Cried like you wouldn't believe. It's not really set anywhere in the series, but has a few spoilers as to the storylines within Season 2, so keep that in mind :) **

**Anyways this is a songfic to Nickelback's - Trying not to love you (okay kinda obvious from the chorus but still :) ) I'm never any good at these things, it's just I had the song on repeat and Sherlock's and John's convosation around the meaning to the song kinda click and well here you are. It's not you're typical story about the typical lyrics, it has it's own twist, it's own flavour... well at least I'm hoping it does :) **

**I shall not keep you away any longer... Enjoy and plz comment and let me know wht you think :D **

_You call to me, and I fall at your feet_  
><em>How could anyone ask for more?<em>  
><em>And our time apart, like knives in my heart<em>  
><em>How could anyone ask for more?<em>

"JJJOOOHHHNNN" I heard my flatmate shout from downstairs his voice strained. He'd been gone for 2 weeks saying it was one of those cases he'd best do himself not even telling me as to where he was going. It hurt to know that he would rather do some things without me but I wasn't complaining to him if he still came back home. I rushed down the stairs and for the first time in 10 days set eyes on my flatmate.

My heart almost stopped at the sight of the blood pouring from his shoulder as he layed on the floor, barely conscious. I rushed over to him falling to my knees grabbing the first aid box from beside the sofa as I did so and let my medical training take over. Why didn't he take me with him? I would have stopped this! I could have been the one hurt instead of him and I realised painfully I would give almost anything for that to be the case instead of me watching him pale than usual clinging to me as if I were life and the look of extreme pain tensing his muscle.

Hours later he still layed with his blood stained coat, shirt and vest top laying on him, but I had stitched the injuries and covered it with a clean bandage. It was the least I could do as I held his hand and waited well into the night for him to wake up. The pain of the stitches finally knocked him out and somewhere Inside the back of my mind I was glad so I didn't have to look at the tears and the piercing stare he would give me while I worked. Why was it always the cases I wasn't there that he got hurt? Why was it when he demanded to do something for that women. 'The women' that he got hurt. I could understand her fascination to him, every half sane man would be attracted to the women but that does not mean she has to get him killed. But didn't I do enough to prove to him that he needed care? that he needed me? that she was bad for him? How could he ask more of me than what I already do for him?

_But if there's a pill to help me forget,_  
><em>God knows I haven't found it yet<em>  
><em>But I'm dying to, God I'm trying to<em>

There were times I just wanted to run away. Wanted to take Harry up on her offer to live with her. I possibly could have done anything, alcohol, caffeine even pills if the need was strong enough. Sherlock thinks I have self control, he thinks I don't crave the addictive things like he does. How does he think I dealt with friends deaths during the war? I survived with no sleep, caffeine and painkillers to help with the headaches because I sure as hell couldn't sleep that well knowing I was so far away from home and friends were dying almost every day.

_'Cause trying not to love you, only goes so far_  
><em>Trying not to need you, is tearing me apart<em>

It's hard to be there constantly for a man who never even noticed your absence, to find every stupid dull question about his 'human' behaviour annoying and boring. It's hard to look at the world the way he did. To not care, to not love. Especially to not care or love him because what would happen if he did die? What would happen if he went too far trying to prove himself smart he got himself dead as a corpse. But I knew it was hopeless, I was still going to die inside if he ever did die. I know that my breath would hitch and my heart would beat with sickingly consistent worry about him when he was away or injured and unconscious as he is now. I knew that trying to not love him was only going to get as far as me being aware enough to tend to his wounds and check his pulse.

But needing him. Loving him was something I would push down, could make myself forget it when seeing him like I did all those hours ago. But needing him oh now that was something I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop the way that when he smiled I smiled, that when he was bored I was frustrated but mostly that he was the thing that kept my life entertaining, interesting and got me to meet so many nice people and as nice as they were Sherlock would always be the one that I would run back to. Even if I'd been heartbroken he could make me forget, to make his social awkwardness as a way of making me laugh, to smile.

_Can't see the silver lining, from down here on the floor_  
><em>And I just keep on trying, but I don't know what for<em>

Though right now seeing all the good things about this man was difficult, as his pale sheet white skin (almost the same colour as the one he wore to Buckingham palace) layed still with no movement and as used to the 'stillness' in Sherlock as I was. It was his eyes that haunted me, that made livid to the bone, it was the fact I couldn't seem them. Couldn't seen his curiosity, his pain that he tried to hide when hurt, his amusement at one of the questions as 'stupid' as I was would ask when it was obvious. But one thing that hurt me most of all was I couldn't see the smile in eyes when he solved a case, when he fit all the pieces together in his memory palace.

I kept trying to think of the positive of him not coming back. My life would be normal again, I could date a girl and actually get through it without Sherlock texting me to meet him at some random place. I could see my sister without him interrupting and her amusing that we were together. That everyone would stop assuming I'm gay. But I couldn't see those silver linings all I could see was the best moments of Sherlock I'd seen and even his worst seems to be something I'd missed. I wasn't going to give up on him. But as the night turned to morning I wondered if my trying to be positive about his recovery was just stupid wishful thinking.

_'Cause trying not to love you_  
><em>Only makes me love you more<em>

It shouldn't have taken me this long to realise but the harder I tried to do something in my life without the wonderful consulting detective that was my flatmate the more I enjoyed his company, the more I needed him around to make my leg stop hurting, to make feel as if I were important. It seemed selfish that Sherlock made me feel important, but I couldn't help it, I was the only doctor he would let treat him, I was the only person he would lean on when injured and in need of support, I was the only 'normal' person he would put up with to help him with his cases and I was the only person he would call upon to help him no matter how embarrassing or uncomfortable the request and most importantly I was the only one he would trust to be in his mothers company without fear of getting into trouble with her. Pride, love and Guilt weaved through me at that moment.

_And this kind of pain, only time takes away_  
><em>That's why it's harder to let you go<em>

Would time heal my pain? Would 3 years down the line as I came home from my job, would I make myself a cuppa tea and just get on with live without the gaping hole I was feeling at the moment. Would I be able to date, marry, love in the same way I had loved this brilliant yet hardly breathing man by side. I held his hand tightly trying to wonder just how would my day to day life be like without him. Only to come to realisation I give my life to not have to live without him.

_And nothing I can do, without thinking of you_  
><em>That's why it's harder to let you go<em>

I couldn't live life without thinking of Sherlock, I knew that was truth. The beats of my heart around the man would triple and it would remind me of the time Irene Adela had come into our lives and Sherlock had took her pulse and ever since I had secretly wished he'd taken mine. Maybe that was why I was holding onto his wrist, checking his heart beat was still there and it was... barely. If I went out whether it be the shops or work I'd expect a text message from Sherlock 'I'm bored SH' or 'Get some milk? SH' those 'SH' I'm slowly realising at my reason for living. People may not know it but... SH was the signature he used to tell me it was him. Not even Moriaty knew it and I smile at the thought of just how many cases we'd solved because someone didn't know of his trademark on text messages.

_So I sit here divided, just talking to myself_  
><em>Was it something that I did?<em>  
><em>Was there somebody else?<em>

The sun was rising and I could hear the city come to life with the busy weekday. But I couldn't bring myself to move, not with Sherlock still out cold laying here possibly dying. My hand in his holding his wrist to check his pulse and with every beat my heart would stop in fear and I had to wonder just how much my heart could take of this before it gave out. I knew he'd been stabbed and I also knew that at some point in the last 5 days he'd got a plane to Scotland. Maybe it was the passport that had fallen by his side or maybe it was just the way he turned his collar up when in a foreign place trying to looked 'cool' and that made me laugh more than anything else. He did actually care about his appearance even if it was just to keep up the internet phenomena persona he secretly loved.

_When a voice from behind me, that was fighting back tears_  
><em>Sat right down beside me, and whispered right in my ear<em>  
><em>Tonight I'm dying to tell you<em>

I turned to look at the stairs having sworn I'd heard Mrs. Hudson coming up. I'd only looked away for a second but it was typical of Sherlock to wake the moment I looked away.

"J-john.." His voice croaky and raw. He sat up slowly taking in where he was, who he was with and just what the pain was in him. You could see him look at those things in turn and I had to smile at his human reaction to be unconscious. He pushed himself back so that his back rested against the front of the sofa like mine and rubbed his left shoulder. Before I had the chance to speak he said

"Just because I know you'll ask... suspect held a gun at me I knocked it out of his hand but as I came closer to him to detain him I didn't see the knife and... I walked back from there, that's why I passed out because I'd lost so much blood on the way over here. What- what time is it?" I turn to my watch, noting the colour coming back to his cheeks (well as much as Sherlock's could)

"9.13am... I'm surprised Mrs. Hudson hasn't come up" Sherlock gave me that same 'you're stupid' look with that amused glint in his eyes and I couldn't help but smile at him. He was okay, beautiful and okay. Finally seeing him wake and those beautiful eyes I realised just how much I missed everything about him for the last couple of weeks and more so how much I would miss him if he were to leave me forever. Maybe I should tell him now. Maybe I should take the risk. Tell him I love him... Tell him I've dying to tell him for months.

_That trying not to love you, only went so far_  
><em>Trying not to need you, was tearing me apart<em>

We sat in silence for ages, neither one ready to move or try and attempt a convosation. We were just content with Sherlock's head falling to my shoulder in his usual way of showing affect and worry when he could not/or would not find the words to do so. I took a deep breath, my inner most thoughts tormenting me.

"Whatever you have to say John, just get it over with" His tone was annoyed and slightly confused, the hind to tell me that he was just angry with himself for knowing what I was thinking.

"Sherlock. You know what you are don't you?" I felt Sherlock move so he could see my face, tense with pain.

"A Male, of 25 years of age, named Sherlock Holmes. I'm told I'm arrogant, selfish and heartless but to which particular thing are you referring?" I bit out a laugh.

"Okay so you could possibly be most of those things, but most of all you're an Idiot" He looked outraged and I saw the glint of worry mixed with guilt in his eyes. Sherlock might be the best actor on the face of this plant. But when you've lived with him for over 2 years you tend to see emotions that not everyone else could. I could usual tell how he was feeling and maybe that was how I've been able to stick around. I manage to know when he'll let me push and be angry and when he'll push me away for sticking my nose in and 'The women' was one of those few bitter subjects, but right now I could not bring myself to care.

"How am I a Idiot, John?" His tone was... unemotional.

"A love sick idiot. You'd do anything for that women wouldn't you? Even get yourself killed! Do you have any idea how worried I've been? No phone call or text message in almost 6 days? You could have been died and I-" My emotions taking over me and I had to swallow slowly and take a few deep breaths. Sherlock was ready to cut off.

"No let me finish. I.. what would I have done? Sherlock? Do you know what I've been doing to try not to love you? To not care? To remain unemotional? To stop myself crying at every thought of you. Which is most of the time. But needing you- I- I couldn't live without you Sherlock and you're just going to through your life away for some women who's so obsessed with you that it's sickening. A women who use to work with the man who was your mortal enemy and just what? Hurt you? For someone with a concept of love she sure as hell as a funny way of showing"

_Now I see the silver lining, from what we're fighting for_  
><em>And if we just keep on trying, we could be much more<em>

Sherlock smiled at me with that goofy, you're being stupidly human but I still want you around kind of look. I would say love, but who was I assume just how much Sherlock cared.

"John are you quiet finished?" And even with his injury I couldn't help but smile at him weakly and nod in answer.

"If you would have checked your email or talked to Mycroft you might have none that the reason I went was because she heard of a plan for someone to use you to get to me to crake some nuclear weapons codes. Hearing this from her, getting supporting information from Mycroft I set off to stop them. That's why you couldn't come John. If they got to you while we were there, I think I'd actually tell them what they wanted" I shook my head for more of shock than anything else.

"But Sherlock, my life if not important... if the nuclear weapons are going to-" He cut me off with a chuckle. You'd think the sound would be strange coming from someone like Sherlock but someone it just seemed to fit him to a tee. Much like everything else he does.

"Yes, the life of the many comes before the life of the one. But.. I'll give people some credit, I am selfish and if wanting you around and not in harm's way makes me selfish then so be it John"

It was suddenly made sense, all the secret phone calls to Mycroft, all the mysterious text messages from 'The women' with that disturbing noise and him actually replying. The way Sherlock would never let me go out alone if he could help it. The way he ran off for two weeks for now explanation other than a case he needed to do alone.

"But who am I to care what people think, most are dull" I smiled at the comment and I finally saw the good side to this situation, finally saw all of Sherlock's bad quality wrapped up into one little moment and you know? I couldn't be more happy about it.

He reached out his hand and slowly laced it in mine. It was a simple gesture, but something that would mean even more to me than a kiss. A kiss meant passion, want, desire and as I was sure we'd get to that point later, right now he was showing me commitment, selfishness and the man WITH a heart that could feel love and I realised I wanted nothing more than to fight for what we have and what we could have in the near future though I know at times it won't be easy.

_trying not to love you_  
><em>Only makes me love you more<em>

He looked up at me with one of those beautiful wonky smiles that meant he was truly happy and to think I cause that just made my heart flutter... I was actually kind of glad for the injury, well no of course not I never want Sherlock hurt but because it finally got me thinking about what I would lose if I didn't tell him and more importantly that all it takes for Sherlock to act like a (kind of) human being was pain. The kind of pain that simulated the brain into thinking of nothing else but for Sherlock just numbed his thoughts so he could get what he felt out.

Maybe he'll realise the mistake once he's rested and healed, though I knew just how long a journey that was going to me, that he didn't actually love me just glad that someone cared about him. Glad someone could save his life to fight another puzzle another day. Sherlock smiled at me softly taking other hand and tracing my cheek

"Trying not to love you John is not only an impossibility but if anything, it makes me love you more" And with those words of honesty and feeling coming from a stupidly in love man, but who was I to complain when I got to kiss those gorgeous lips?


End file.
